In 500... (or less)

The Half-Life of Inspiration

She rushed to her computer. She hadn't had an idea this good in ages.

"First, I gotta map out the plot elements," she said to herself. The words flew from her fingertips as she wove an outline of her story.

"That's a good one," she chuckled after writing out one of the twists.

Each character had to be drawn out next, she thought. She imagined favorite foods for them, detailed family histories that dated back centuries, even what types of fabric they enjoyed wearing. She would figure out later how all of those things played into the story.

"Coffee," she murmured, realizing she had been typing for hours. Her mind begged for respite, but she knew she had to press on.

"It's your own fault," she told herself. "You've got to seize the inspiration when it hits you."

As she worked, she realized this piece was too big to fit into one novel, it would have to be a series. The prospects of writing several books from her idea were not daunting to her, it excited her and conjured dreams of writing the next Harry Potter series. Of course she would be a fabulously wealthy writer, world-known and well-respected.

"I can't wait to start writing this," she thought. Her mind was slowing to a crawl, unable to forge ahead.

"Guess that's enough for one day. Whew! Three a.m.!" The day had gone by so quickly. She wearily drifted off to sleep, ready to jump back to the computer the minute her mind she was recharged.

It seemed like she was out for only a few minutes when she heard a rapping at her door.

"Are you ready?!" Her boyfriend sounded annoyed. He didn't think she'd forget about the trip to the beach with his parents. They had been talking about it for weeks.

"Wha..." she stammered, stirring awake slowly. The rapping and hollering persisted, until she finally realized someone was at her door. She rushed down to answer it.

"Rory, what are you..." She didn't need to finish the sentence. Inspiration had so fully cleared her mind that she had forgotten to pack. Rory scowled.

"We're gonna be late."

"No we're not," she huffed. "Just give me five minutes."

An hour and a half later, she stumbled out the door with her suitcase. Rory couldn't contain his annoyance.

"All ready, princess?" he said sarcastically.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Only when she got to the beach did she realize that she'd forgotten her laptop.

"Oh well, it will be there when I get back. No time to write here anyway."

The trip flew by, and a week later she was rushing back inside. She went straight for her laptop and opened up her notes.

"Finally, I'm ready to rock this story."

She grimaced as she looked at the words on the page.

"Pirates with jet packs? Who wrote this?"

Back to square one: staring blankly at the computer screen.